Wayne Manor had never been quiet—but tonight it was loud. The fireplace crackled, the tree sparkled in the grand hall, and wrapping paper was already everywhere despite Bruce insisting presents would be opened “in an orderly fashion.”

At the center of it all stood Bruce Wayne, attempting to look composed while holding a mug of cocoa. “We will proceed one at a time,” he said firmly.

“Boo, that’s boring,” Dick Grayson grinned, slinging an arm around you. “Christmas is about chaos. And glitter. Mostly glitter.”

“Speak for yourself,” muttered Jason Todd, already halfway through opening his third gift. “If this is another sweater, I’m setting it on fire.”

“It’s from me,” Tim Drake said without looking up from the instructions of a gadget he’d just unboxed. “And it’s flame-retardant.”

Across the room, Damian Wayne crossed his arms. “This holiday is inefficient. However,” he added stiffly, handing you a carefully wrapped box, “I selected this personally.”

You barely had time to thank him before Stephanie Brown popped up behind the couch. “Group selfie before someone commits arson!”

“Already happening,” said Barbara Gordon, holding up her phone with a knowing smile.

Near the tree, Cassandra Cain silently handed you a small, perfectly wrapped gift—her soft nod saying more than words ever could.

“Alright, who put mistletoe in every doorway?” Kate Kane asked dryly.

“Not me,” Duke Thomas laughed. “But I respect the strategy.”

From the side, Alfred Pennyworth cleared his throat gently. “If Master Jason sets anything ablaze, dinner will be delayed.”

Bruce sighed, but when you laughed—really laughed—the stern billionaire act cracked. He stepped closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. “This,” he admitted quietly, glancing at the chaos, the family, the warmth filling the manor, “is what matters.”

Dick tossed an arm around Bruce. Jason argued with Tim. Steph was still filming. Damian pretended not to smile. Cass hovered protectively near you. Kate shook her head fondly. Duke handed out cookies. Barbara captured every second. Alfred watched like a proud general overseeing a very loud army.

And in the middle of it all, under twinkling lights and Gotham snowfall, the Batfamily celebrated—not perfectly, not quietly—but together.